


A night out

by innocuous



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Needles, Oral Sex, PWP, i really dont know where this came from, mild blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innocuous/pseuds/innocuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people meet, they meet more intimately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A night out

This morning I knew nothing about what was to come.  
I did not know of your appearance in my life. In fact, it was entirely unplanned. Which may be considered so uncharacteristic for me, I would not believe any of it if I had not participated in this, well, irreplacable role.  
However, you were beautiful and I had downed a bottle of vodka.  
We met on a crossing at 3am, I had the habit of going for a walk at night. You accidentally bumped into me and I proceeded to apologize profusely, because one is always guilty if drunk. I barely met your eyes, but noticed your hair curling down your shoulders in a dark mahagony or hazel, you never quite know in the dark. A dress of some sort hugged your full figure, some may have called it inappropriate for you bodytype.  
Distinct rolls of fat caressed bone and the dress (of which color I am not sure), showed just about everything, except the tone of your actual skin.  
I wanted to take you home in that moment. Or somewhere else, a quiet dark place, or a brightly lit one - to show everyone the beauty I saw in you.  
A hand touched my shoulder and you said something like: 'You okay?'  
I nodded at that and tried to look you in the eye, which even in the dark shone to me in three different colors. I desperately wanted to punch your eyes black and pierce your cheek.  
I extended my hand and told you my faux name  
As my gaze finally met your eyes my smile matched yours. There were small crinkles around the edges of your mouth when you told me: 'Maria.' A real name I suppose since you never looked anywhere else while speaking.  
'Maria,' I said, choosing to ignore my hypocrisy, 'What are you doing here at this hour?'  
You stared at the ground and said nothing. A gesture I could very well understand. A quick rush home from where your bodily appearance was not appreciated, maybe a rude comment or two. A moment of silence stretched until I finally decided to move and then you merely breathed: 'Well, nothing really.'  
'Alright, uhm, I don't know you or anything, but maybe come back to mine or there's a club right...' I did not get to finish my sentence, you were so eager.  
'Yours is okay, I guess.' I almost wanted to reply, saying it's uncareful going home with a complete stranger, but then you flashed me that sweet shy smile and all my precautions were irrelevant.  
We did share some delightful chatter along the way, Maria. I know the path through the concrete jungle was not exactly a sightseeing tour, but you seemed to enjoy it somehow.  
When I opened my fourth floor door you were a little apprehensive, whatever it was - society instilled anxiety, pure instinct or the sighting of my clutter - you overcame it quickly.  
I took your hand and led you inside, my fingers were brushing your forearm until I caught your wrist.  
'Do ya drink? I got some rum left?' I asked. You obviously enjoyed a drink or two, the pores on your nose were ever so slightly enlarged and your breath already smelled of that cheap whisky they sell in clubs. Nevertheless, It would have been rude not to ask. As you nodded in agreement I pulled out the bottles and poured us a generous drink of rum and coke. I was pleased to see you still content after having left you alone to fetch the coke.  
Our conversation while seated, sometimes bordered on the awkward but never quite spilled over. Instead we silently approached what we were apparently both interested in. I wanted to hurt, badly. But I also wanted to praise everything about you, you had not managed to bore me yet and your body was looking like a thousand flowers must smell. You, I noticed, were easily pleased. Your real interests though, lay beyond. A prettily shaped mouth talked to me about physical pain, hurt and a metal blade.  
Where ever you had found the courage to say those things, I was thankful. It made it so much easier to actually say it myself.  
You were a little bit disappointed that I did not want to use my dearest blade on that night, but we were both so plastered, it would have been plain irresponsible.  
I offered a cannula. Still surprising me, you accepted and even offered your cheek, which I did not even mention before. Hesitation flooded me, but then I pulled out my gear, still in sterile packaging, because I had not really found the time to do it to myself yet.  
I got seated in your lap and slowly, carefully approached your cheek with the cannula's tip. When I noticed your definite lack of resistance I pushed through your skin's renitency. I think I almost knocked your glass over, 'cause I ground my crotch into yours. It did not phase you, I felt your hands on my breasts, kneading and occasionally sliding lower, although I think your body had gone stiff for a few beats.  
A small trail of blood trickled down your right cheek, this time, I did not wait for approval but lapped it up like a thirsty dog would. The sound leaving your mouth confirmed my actions, a low moan, maybe a breath sans oxygen. I drew the needle out, quickly, and latched onto your cheek. I sucked so fervently, I must have left a bruise.  
Your hips beneath and your hands on me spoke so clearly I did not need further incentive to trail my suction downwards. The need to disrobe your glorious body was so strong, I almost missed the looming anxiety.  
Soothing your inner voices, those absolutely ridiculous cries inside you, that tell you to be ashamed of pounds coating your bones and of marks painting your skin, I caressed your left side, while oh so slowly pushing up your dress with my other hand. It looked like I managed to distract you enough when I sank down between your thighs, because I reached my sweet, ot rather salty goal. You had not shaved and I assumed you either did not care or did not expect to have any intimate encounters, both were equally attractive to me and I licked up and down just beside your clitoris, there was no need to overstimulate or end this to quickly, was there?  
A hand pulled at my ponytail, a drawn-out almost-whine toppled over your lips. Another hand resumed it's movements on my breasts and I nearly stopped exploring your depths. Instead I put one hand your stomach, gingerly rubbing and massaging. My other hand found its way between by legs, almost violently squeezing and stroking my own clitoris.  
We went on like this for an eternity, or at least it seems like this in retrospective. The whole time I could feel the fabric of your dress falling down on my knuckles and head, your small quivers everytime I hit the spot directly. When I looked up to your face, scrunched up in agonizing pleasure, I could still see some blood trailing downwards.  
At some point I retrieved my hand from your stomach and pushed to fingers inside you. Curling and pumping, I intensified my tongue's administrations, as well as my other hand's movements.  
To be honest, I do not know who came first. I remember a strong pulse against my tongue and your gasping, higher than normal voice. My own thighs and everything between tensed up, burning a little bit like fire, my stomach a wildlife of flourescent insects of some kind and a cry like I've been hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> I might do a second chapter for this, almost certainly even.


End file.
